


The Edge of Your Knife

by tumbleweedfarm



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Crime AU, Currently being rewritten - Freeform, I just think atsumu deserves a knife, I've never committed a felony I don't know how you do it, M/M, Rating will go up, its about the questionable morals, light Violence, thief Atsumu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:47:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28869540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tumbleweedfarm/pseuds/tumbleweedfarm
Summary: Miya Atsumu is hard to find and harder to catch.Sakusa takes the case without hesitation.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 3
Kudos: 49





	1. To Catch a Thief

**Author's Note:**

> Keep in mind that the rating will go up in the second chapter!
> 
> Enjoy!

Miya Atsumu is hard to find and harder to catch. Everyone at Sakusa’s agency knows this. He’s a nightmare of paperwork and legal loopholes, and no one can ever seem to hold him down.

Sakusa takes the case with no hesitation.

He’s a good agent. He does good work, always seeing things through until he’s looking at his conquests through prison bars. Miya Atsumu shouldn’t be any different.

Sakusa’s first chance to catch him comes on a late August night. His boss had handed him a file that morning, of what little they know about Miya’s plan for the night. Just a little jewelry store robbery. Miya will be glaring at Sakusa from the other side of a courtroom in no time. Even his picture is enough to light a fire in Sakusa’s head. He wants to smear that smug grin into the concrete. 

He’s practically itching in the front seat of his car as he waits behind a building down the block from the store. If his agency’s intel is correct, Miya should be arriving in about ten minutes. Sakusa’s fingers twitch on the console.

A silhouette, solid and silent, moves around the corner. Hm. He’s a few minutes early, but Sakusa is nothing if not flexible. He slips out of the car and heads down the street. 

The air is heavy and almost paralyzingly hot, but Sakusa can feel goosebumps on his skin. The thrill of the job never seems to leave Sakusa’s veins. He has yet to find something that beats the satisfaction of closing a case.

Miya moves quietly, for such a large man. The pebbles and pieces of broken glass in the street barely make a sound as he steps over them. But Sakusa can move quietly, too. He clings to walls and corners, staying just out of sight. Miya may be confident, but Sakusa has the upper hand by following behind.

Miya’s figure disappears around a nearby corner. That’s fine, Sakusa has good ears. He listens for near-silent footsteps over city debris and follows the sound. 

It’s easy. The street forms a straight line, and the sound of Miya’s footsteps follow a predictable pattern. What isn’t predictable, however, is the feeling of cold steel pressed to his throat, and a solid force pinning his chest to a nearby wall and trapping his hands behind his back. 

Sakusa really does love his job. The thrill of the chase, the shocked expressions of the criminals he catches. He’s going to take even more satisfaction in it, now, because he can feel his own features mirroring the people he put in handcuffs. 

“You really need to start sending better agents,” An easy drawl ghosts over the back of Sakusa’s neck. “This is gettin’ too easy.”

“Miya,” Sakusa rasps against the edge of the knife. It’s held by an expert hand, poised to kill.

“Mm,” Miya hums. He presses the blade just a little closer. Just enough to make it hard to breathe. “So which one are you? I make it my business to know who I’m playing with.”

“Sakusa,” The knife presses harder.

“That’s not enough for me, agent,” Miya’s lips are right next to Sakusa’s ear. The goosebumps come back. “I need it all.”

A badly-timed quip sounds really good right now, but even the dumbest agents know not to make jokes with a knife against the neck. 

“Kiyoomi.”

The blade eases up and slides down to Sakusa’s collarbone. “There, that’s better, isn’t it, Omi?”

“Don’t call-“ The knife returns to Sakusa’s throat with even more force than before.

“Here’s the thing, Omi-Omi,” Miya says. “I didn’t come here to take anything I don’t need.”

“So why the hell are you here?” Sakusa swallows against steel. The feeling stays on his skin and in his throat as he’s spun and pinned again, this time with his back to the brick wall.

Miya’s picture in the flimsy manilla folder does nothing to Sakusa’s resolve compared to the real thing. His big, confident eyes and cocksure grin burn into Sakusa’s mind like brands. Miya seems to gleam in the low light of the alley. Sakusa wants to snuff him out.

“I needed you,” Miya whispers. He tucks the knife under Sakusa’s chin and tilts it up, inspecting him. “And now I have you.”

Sakusa doesn’t give himself time to wonder why the fire in his eyes drops to his stomach.

“That’s all this was? An investigation?” Sakusa spits, wary of the tip of the knife pinching under his jaw. “What about the jewels?”

“Oh,” Miya’s eyebrows pop upward. “Thanks for the reminder, Omi-kun.”

Miya slips the knife into the inside of his jacket and reaches his hand into the pocket of his slacks. He produces a necklace, glittering with diamonds and silver. 

“Like I said,” Miya tucks the necklace into Sakusa’s jacket pocket. The his fingers burn even through fabric. “I didn’t come here to take something I don’t need.”

For a long, searing moment, Miya’s eyes trace Sakusa’s face.

“Hm. You’re pretty, Omi.” Miya mumbles. Slowly, so slowly, he pulls the knife back out and drags the point along Sakusa’s lower lip. The sensation is barely there, but it shoots electricity right into Sakusa’s spine. “See ya later, agent.”

Miya steps away, releasing Sakusa’s arms. When he turns, Sakusa lunges for Miya’s wrists, scrambling for this last opportunity to restrain him. 

He only grabs one.

A hot, stinging pain slices through Sakusa’s hip. Miya is gone before Sakusa is even able to clasp his hand to the fresh cut.

“Shit,” he hisses. He pulls his hand off the dampening fabric. It comes away red. 

When Sakusa returns to the agency to report the incident and clean the wound, he receives no scoldings, no disappointed glares. It’s to be expected, his coworkers say. Miya Atsumu is a tough case.

Sakusa is going to crush him.

It turns out that crushing Miya Atsumu takes time. He needs to be worn down like a jagged mountain wears into pathetic hills. Sakusa needs to have the patience of the winds that smooth them.

This proves difficult by their fourth or fifth encounter. It ends the same way every time. With Sakusa frozen under a hazel gaze and Miya walking free. 

And every time, golden eyes and a silver tongue invade Sakusa’s dreams.

Sakusa’s coworkers always ask him if he wants to transfer the case. It’s been months, they say. Let another agent take on the load. 

But Miya Atsumu is just a man. A man reduced to a manilla folder. A paper man that only Sakusa can burn. 

Miya Atsumu is rumored to be attending a gala hosted by one of the city’s wealthiest families on a rainy Saturday evening. And Sakusa refuses to let him slip away again.

He puts on his finest suit, with the gold cufflinks that always get complimented by stuffy men in stuffier suits. He lets the rain outside the building soothe the hot rage under his skin. Dripping wet hair is frowned upon at a gala, but Sakusa doesn’t mind abandoning customs tonight.

The security at the event had been made well aware of the situation tonight. Miya Atsumu is notorious with police, detectives, and security guards across every major city in Japan. Sakusa can feel their smug looks as they show him to a back entrance. Another agent to lose to Miya Atsumu.

Sakusa Kiyoomi doesn’t lose.

Sakusa strides down the marble floors so quickly he nearly slips on the rain water that clings to his shoes. The venue is beautiful, Sakusa knows. His boss always tells him to take a moment to indulge in the elegance, on missions like this. At the very least, it helps him blend in with the crowd. 

But Sakusa takes no such pleasure tonight. His target has memorized Sakusa’s features. There’s no need to blend or hide.

Not that he could, anyway. Not from those eyes. Sakusa shakes the thought away with the raindrops clinging to his curls. 

Sakusa knows the building’s floorpan like the back of his hand. Down the hall and to the left, the kitchen bustles with frazzled cooks and pastry chefs. To the right, a dining hall, glittering with crystal from tableware to ceiling. But that isn’t where Sakusa is heading.

In the basement, far from the champagne-fueled reverie, sits the archive of precious metals and gems that have been on display at the opulent venue. Funny, how the most valuable treasures are kept in the most unassuming places.

The security guards have doubled their ranks and lined the building, ready to stop Miya at any cost. Sakusa knows they won’t. 

Sakusa is good at his job. He moves quickly and quietly. He is so predictably precise that he wraps up cases twice as fast as any colleague. He shouldn’t be nearly giddy with surprise when he spots Miya before he’s under that golden gaze again. But he is. 

Miya rounds a corner down the hall, presumably to head for the archives. The guards outside probably have no idea he’s even in the building. Sakusa takes another intoxicating hit of pride knowing that he’s the only one able to trail Miya Atsumu.

Sakusa can feel his heart pounding with excitement as he approaches the door to the archive. Unlocked and cracked open, just barely. Satisfaction and thrill lace up Sakusa’s spine. This, this feeling, is why he spent month after month chasing a single, insignificant man.

That’s the thing about thrills. They’re so short lived.

As soon as Sakusa enters the room, the floor comes up to greet him. His leg aches from the impact, but the pain is forgotten as soon as a heavy, warm weight settles above him, holding his arms down.

“Evening, Omi,” Miya’s cheshire grin slams into view above Sakusa’s face. “Did ya miss me?”

“Not a chance,” Sakusa spits. He’s played this game before. He tucks his leg behind Miya’s, and shoves them over. Now, hovering over Miya’s frame, bracketing his legs, a little of the satisfaction begins to bloom in Sakusa’s chest again. 

Sakusa should really put a stop to that.

Miya wraps his legs around Sakusa’s waist and hauls him back over. Sakusa absolutely does not think about how strong his thighs are around his waist. 

They’re writhing on the floor like a couple of kids, but Sakusa doesn’t care about dignity right now. He cares about getting Miya and his big mouth and half-lidded eyes behind bars.

When they finally lay still, panting and red with frustration, Sakusa has Miya’s hands pinned by his head, legs tangled in his own. It’s so, so much. Sakusa focuses on the chill of his damp hair on his burning skin.

“Your move, agent,” Miya whispers. He’s so close that anything louder would be unnecessary. He’s so close that Sakusa can see every color in his eyes. He’s so close that he can practically feel whatever stupid words are going to escape him and Sakusa can only think of one card he hasn’t played.

He crashes his lips down into that big, loud mouth. 

Miya wastes no time in returning the sentiment. It’s all teeth and tongue and Sakusa feels like he’s going to burn with this insignificant, paper man. He does nothing to hold back a gasp when Miya licks up into his mouth, hitting somewhere behind his teeth. Teeth that sink into Miya’s lower lip. 

Sakusa has lost count of how many mistakes he’s made up until this point, but his next one is letting go of Miya’s wrists to fist into fluffy blond hair. It’s softer than he thought it would be, such a contrast from the gnashing teeth making their way to Sakusa’s jawline. It’s arresting, and Miya is judge, jury, and executioner. 

Sakusa’s back hits the ground again, an exhale pressed from his lungs. He dips his head into the crook of Miya’s neck and sinks his teeth in, smearing rain water and sweat on Miya’s jawline. The gasp that comes out of his mouth is more satisfying than any arrest he could make. The terrifying thought is set aside when Miya shoves a hand into Sakusa’s curls and tugs, hard. 

Dull pain blooms under his scalp. It feels so real and grounded compared to the heat of Miya’s lips latching onto his neck that it pulls a low moan from his throat.

“You make such pretty sounds, Omi,” Atsumu groans into Sakusa’s skin. His words vibrate into the tendons of Sakusa’s neck. 

“I liked it better when you weren’t talking, Miya,” Sakusa’s voice is much raspier than he wants it to be. 

“Yeah?” Miya grinds his hips down, slow and firm, putting pressure right where Sakusa didn’t realize he needs it. Every last thread of Sakusa’s restraint ties down the whine that threatens to escape. “I like it better when you make noise, anyway.”

With a final bite to Sakusa’s neck, Miya presses up off the ground. Sakusa hates the way he chases his lips. 

“Until next time, Omi,” Miya drawls. And then he’s gone.

Sakusa stands on heavy legs and glances around the room. It’s dim, most of the light dedicated toward illuminating glass cases full of gems and precious metals.

Nothing is missing.

With an oddly cold feeling settling over his bones that he can’t entirely blame on his rain-damp suit, Sakusa allows himself to come to terms with a terrifying thought.

He can’t wait for the next time.


	2. Announcement

Hello! Thank you for your support on this fic so far! It is being rewritten and turned into a single chapter piece. It will be posted separately from this work. 

Thank you again!


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